Such is the tale of memory, ere night Had deepened, and our weary convoy slept Beside the way. Slow-rising points of light Twinkled amid the spangled netting swept Across the ebon desert; and a gleam Pierced the cloud-woven pillows of the moon. Now slumber freed me from the iron cage That bound the snarling war; and, in a dream, The panorama of a dawning age Unrolled, a world slow-waking from a swoon. Before my gaze a teeming city loomed Gay with the bustling clamour of the street-- The very town an easy word had doomed And cast in ashes at the trampling feet Of mortal gods. Street, corner, square and place, Seemed woken from a long and squalid trance-- I saw a nation growing like a flower; A nation true and loyal to a race That forged an army of clean-soldiered power Wrought by the common chivalry of France. Here was no arrogance of martial pride, The fireside boast that sows the fatal seed, For happiness had come from those who died Stark of delusion and the deadly creed Of false romance. I saw a world reborn-- The very battlefield was robed again In lines of chequered land, and bordered round With stretching roads and rills. The poppied corn Held rubies set in gold, and far beyond Lay a surf-ravelled sea and swarded plain. I marvelled, till oblivion shadowed all, Blurred in the dawning light of every day. It was so true, I scarcely heard the call To feed and water and to move away. We stretched our limbs, and packed each heavy load; Moved on, and left the weary night behind, Through torn and withered trees that stared aghast; Yet, through the veil that shrouded all the road I saw new radiance in the land we passed, And heard a sudden murmur in the wind. B. E. F., 1917. KEATS, BEFORE ACTION A little moment more--O, let me hear (The thunder rolls above, and star-shells fall) Those melodies unheard re-echo clear Before the shuddering moment closes all. They come--they come--they answer to my call, That Grecian throng of graven ecstasies, Hyperion aglow in blazing skies, And Cortez with the wonder in his eyes. In battle-wreaths of smoke they rise, and fall Beyond--beyond recall. Now all is silent, still, and magic-keen (Yet thunder rolls above and star-shells fall) And slowly pacing, rides a faery queen Wild eyed and singing to a knight in thrall. Enough--enough--let lightning whip me bare And leave me naked in the howling air My body broken here, and here, and here. Beauty is truth, truth beauty--that is all, The very all in all. THE SOMME